Star Wars Chronicles
by 501st's Journal
Summary: Where life gathers, the Force is present, and a great question is posed: Whether the Force is but a thread in the great tapestry of life, or if life is but a page in the grand story of the Force?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The planet Coruscant. One giant city. A sea of sound and silence. A great mass of light and dark. A congregation of many, many beings. Each one with their own lives. Each one with their own values and principles. Each one clad in the trappings of what has been given to them, or what they have been striving for.

But stripped of its garments, stripped of the metal, dirt, flesh, and all physically tangible elements, the planet is so much more. It is life. It is the urge for existence. It is the Force.

This is Coruscant. Yet another entity, another embodiment of the Force, in the ocean of stars in that time long ago, in a galaxy far away.

The Force flows easily through cracks in the city streets, through the crevices in the hearts of its inhabitants. For where life gathers, the Force is present. A great question is posed: Whether the Force is but a thread in the great tapestry of life, or if life is but a page in the grand story of the Force?

Many have sought to understand this. Some through the body, others through mind and thought, and some through the soul and the emotions and feelings that run through it.

Among them are great orders such as the Baran Do, who seek inner peace through the Force, and who have transcended seeing life in black and white as their more decisive brethren still do.

There are the Jal Shey, who have sought to understand the Force at a mental level, intellectually studying it and gaining great wisdom in the process.

But how can one understand the greater meaning if one simply concentrates on one aspect? The Matukai are an order of Force sensitives who channel the Force through their bodies. Their greatest achievement is finding a balance and a connection between the body and spirit. It is the cornerstone of their philosophy.

And there are others who have learned to wield the Force, so as to survive the sheer beauty and horrors of the universe. The Zeison Sha developed their Force abilities to endure the harsh environment of their home world Yanibar.

But one such order has achieved greatness so undeniable that the mere mention of their name can strike fear or comfort in the hearts of the listeners. They are the Jedi. An order of Force users who live a code of selflessness. They live their lives for others, thinking only of others and how they may aid them. This is why they exist as an order of peacekeepers. For it is their belief that in peace the universe and the many galaxies that comprise it can continue living in harmony and order, prospering and growing in the process. Their Jedi Code exists to protect each and every sentient from what is within us all.

Yet it is a sad truth that the Jedi Code has never been enough to defeat what is within. And those that have touched it cannot turn away from its presence. These beings see power and how it may aid them in fulfilling their purpose in life. Grand quests to protect others transform into paranoia that those they have sought to defend shall betray and overthrow them. Noble efforts to save lives and to prevent death have blinded the kindest of hearts to the truth that death is inevitable and should be rejoiced in for a higher existence is achieved, and that keeping a soul from rest is… unnatural… and evil.

These beings have taken up a single banner in the ages past. They have called themselves the Sith. They believe that strength comes from within, that the self is the truest and greatest power. But in seeking to fulfill their hearts' desires, they turn away from others, and lose sight that everything, even the undeniable power of the self, is but a part in the great plan of life, or the Force if you would prefer. Their Sith Code exists to bring forth the potential from within but sadly believes that peace is a lie, and that passion is the only thing that is truly real. _Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken._ Liberation, yes, but at what cost?

The different and yet obviously contrasting beliefs of these two orders have brought them against each other frequently. So often have been their confrontations when you count life in the seconds of the universe, and so long has their history of war been. So long that it is no longer known how it all began. Or which order came first.

The Jedi claim that the Sith are merely Jedi who have simply broken off from the Code and have embraced that which they used to condemn. But Sith ruins on planets on the far edges of the galaxy, in the farthest regions of the outer rim, in dead places where planets and systems used to reside, beg to differ. Who came first? Who knows? But does it matter? When events of the now constantly reshape the face of the universe.

But back to the greater beings that fly through the cosmos and have lived longer than any of these orders. Coruscant may seem such a daunting planet, but there are other places out there that are just as great in the Force, and have darker existences than the capital of what seems to be a failing Republic.

One of these is but a moon, yet it is a moon where life is drawn to unexplainably. It is Nar Shaddaa, the Smuggler's Moon, the rock that orbits the world of Nal Hutta. In the deep pits where it seems one can find no end, the Force flows out like a tidal wave, ready to swallow any listeners who know not what they listen for. It is here where many lives have been shaped, reshaped, and ended. But in a moment that seems too brief for the great time to take notice of, a life begins that is strong in the Force, and like those that have come before it, it has the potential to change the universe.

The potential to change _everything_.

**- - -**

The cloaked figure sat in the cantina. Alone, clad in black, and conveniently seated in one of the corners where the lights of the bar illuminated only half of the table, the figure seemed suspicious. But not enough to get attention. Most of the beings in the bar, on the planet for that matter, were clouded in their own personal mysteries. No one went out of their way to question the livelihood of another, except maybe if they had a blaster among their belongings and intended to use it for their own personal benefit.

The bar was filled with life, slightly repressed in places, crudely exploding in others. A pair of Trandoshans sat in a corner of their own, whispering to each other in their own tongue, obviously seeking to keep their conversation between themselves. A Rodian and a Weequay seemed to be falling into a heated argument, kept controlled only by the rattled Bith bartender. A Quarren sat in his own little stall, very much like the one the cloaked figure was in, isolated from the others by simple white barriers.

The figure looked out the window in the wall beside him. The city was teeming with life. Speeders flew by quickly, stopping only when caught in air traffic. Some of the drivers were honking their horns incessantly, others were openly cursing at their peers throwing vulgar signs with their hands.

The glow from the buildings cast barely enough light to uncover the shadows of the moon's streets down below, far below. Above them, brightly flashing signboards exclaimed to the world that their products were the best, and if one stared long enough, and tried to perceive what was hidden in the shadows, one would see many petty crimes being committed: mugging, mauling, even rape.

Crime ruled this world, this one giant city. Nothing could be done about it; that was just how life was here. Ruled by the Hutts and other organizations such as the Exchange, suffering and pain were everyday occurrences.

The figure picked up his glass from the table with soft, pale fingers and slowly shook it, swirling its contents into a haze. The ice clinked lightly on the glass, a sound barely audible amidst the other noises of the cantina.

"Care for another glass?" The sultry voice of the waitress came. She leaned her weight onto the barrier, her left arm resting on top of it, keeping her balanced. She tipped her head and let it lie on her arm and let what seemed to be two tails on her head slide down the other side.

It was no surprise that she was clad in a dress with no back and sleeves; it exposed her skin for all to see as was usual in worlds like this. Base thoughts ruled the minds of the masses and their more demented lords. It was a surprise though that the rest of the dress was quite modest, velvet and long, and except for the two slits that rose daringly high up her legs, it was quite elegant. Bar's owned by Bith's were usually several steps higher in the civilized ladder: the role of bartender is sacred to their culture, and they treat their bars like priests would their temples.

"No, thank you." Came the response. It was like a whisper, and yet it carried through the air giving her no trouble hearing it.

She let go of the barrier and took a few steps toward the table, her hand coming to rest on the head of a chair and with a look she inquired if she could sit. A nod was her only response and she sat herself down.

Her elbows found their way onto the table and her fingers intertwined themselves, her chin resting on them. Her striking blue eyes stared at the face under the hood, trying to get a better look at what the shadows hid. "What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?" Her lips pressed onto her index finger.

"The place is nice," a slight pause, deliberate and controlled, "and the atmosphere a lot kinder than most other bars."

"I know." She smiled and threw her head back; her flesh-colored skin seemed to glow in the yellow light of the cantina. "But a guy like you seems he'd fit better in livelier places."

_I will be. Livelier… and yet quieter._

"Really?"

"Yes. I believe so. Would you like me to show you around?" She crossed her left arm over her stomach and rested her elbow on her wrist, her fingers tracing her lips. "I go off duty in a bit."

_Maybe I would._

"I'm busy tonight." The figure put the glass down on the table and the ice made a slight tinkle before resuming floating in what was left of the drink.

"That's… too bad." There was a sigh in her voice as if she wasn't used to that kind of response. "I had wanted to…"

"Alana!" The Bith bartender called with a drink shaker in his hand. "Juma juice for table four."

The Twi'lek sighed and smiled a defeated smile at the hooded figure. "It was nice meeting you, stranger." With that, she stood up and slowly strutted toward the bar, and the cloaked figure could see several eyes following her where she went.

_I might have wanted to as well but I guess not everyone can be saved…_

Slowly rising from his seat, the figure went to the counter and paid his bill. One last look and understanding nods were all that were said between the cloaked figure and the Twi'lek waitress as he stepped out of the cantina door and into the shadows of Nar Shaddaa.

He looked up at the sky and saw no stars for the city lights were far too many and far too bright. But he knew that tonight the stars of some individuals would be snuffed out.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:**

(This disclaimer is based off Beautybedamned's disclaimer in her LOTR fic Points of Five, I found it suitable to use a similar format for my own purposes – hey sis! ;p)

All characters belonging to and created by LucasArts referred to or otherwise, are copyright George Lucas and LucasArts – he is the genius who made the Star Wars universe who was blessed by 'the Force' to bring this beautiful place to all of us. Depictions of aforementioned characters, scenes and events taken from _Star Wars: Episode 1_ are _also _copyright LucasArts and 20th Century Fox. Moreover, information regarding this universe was taken mostly from the Official Star Wars database, from Wikipedia's Wikicities' Wookiepedia and select Star Wars games. Again, I do not own them, but I wish I did.

However, unnamed or unknown, individual characters who ARE NOT found within the canon are most definitely mine and may not be used without my express permission.

Due to the lack of other sources, I would like to acknowledge the website that provided the Star Wars: Episode 1 screenplay and its contributor, SuperShadow. Even though Mr. Mickey Suttle (SuperShadow) doesn't have one of the cleanest records, his screenplay is quite accurate (with only a few flaws here and there which I personally correct by comparing with the movie dialogue).

Much thanks also to my siblings – my sister/'editor' Noelle aka Beautybedamned, and little brother, Neal (can you say fan? ;p), for reading through what there is of the fic and for their constant support of this endeavor.

Finally, for anything else I _may _have forgotten, standard disclaimers apply. I'm writing this piece because I love Star Wars and the universe that continues to fascinate me (nevermind my own personal agenda). For any and further questions about the fic, please do not be afraid to email me, the link is on my userpage. I will do my best to reply.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The guards were a pathetic outfit of thugs, a mishmash of different species from different places. Most looked to be mercenaries clad in not even the slightest bit of uniform. Each wore their own trappings and each was equipped in the manner they saw fit. Their weapons were lying scattered everywhere, behind the crates they sat on, on the walls, about their feet, strewn on the floor too far for them to grab if danger arose.

They were too concentrated on the modified game of Pazaak they were playing that they didn't notice the dark figure nonchalantly walking towards them under the soft glow of the city lights. As they argued about who had won the last game or if someone had cheated to win it, the figure's cloak fluttered softly in the wind. As their hands flipped their cards over and their eyes kept careful check on their littered credits, the dark shadow the figure cast came over them and finally caught their attention.

They all looked up, startled, surprised and shaken. There was just something about the shadow, something about the figure that cast it that unnerved them and made them all run for their weapons.

Maybe if they had been a little bit more prepared, if they had given at least half their attention to their watch, maybe, just maybe, the outcome would have been different.

The two seated near the wall flew toward it and, with a loud crash, fell to the floor, eyes wide open, as if in shock, but dead.

One who had lunged for his blaster found that right before his fingers touched it, his arm had bent into the most undesirable of positions. He screamed but nothing came out, it was as if all the air had been choked out of him, and his lungs felt like they were being crushed. His other limbs had followed suit and he became a writhing mass of pain on the floor, shaking madly and slowly quivering to a stop, to its death.

The last, who had managed to pick up his vibroblade, found that he would not have any chance to use it. He was being lifted into the air by the neck by some invisible force. His limbs lost their strength and his weapon slipped from his grasp. The last things he saw were the piercing green eyes of the dark figure from under his hood, and everything just went black. His body fell to the floor, lifeless, like the others.

Silence fell upon that place of death. It became yet another typical tragedy on the Smuggler's Moon. The figure seemed to pause and waver. _If only we could have talked. It didn't have to end this way._

The cloaked figure walked towards the door that now lay unguarded and looked at the console.

_The access code has been changed to 5105. It will be nice to see you back on duty._ He had overheard the conversation of the Trandoshans from the bar. That was what he had been waiting for during his stay there. It was all he needed to carry out the operation much more smoothly.

His hand came out from under his cloak, his dark leather glove a perfect fit around his fingers. He reached out and typed in the access code slowly. The numbers flashed green on the screen and as he pressed the enter button, the console flashed a bright green line and the door slowly opened.

As he entered and the door shut behind him, darkness enveloped him, save for the dim illumination from some hanging lamps above on the high ceiling.

Crates upon crates were stacked on top of each other. They had the feel of weapons crates and he knew exactly what was in them. This bastardization would end.

On the other side of the warehouse he could see droids unloading more crates. This mess would take up quite a while to clean up, what with the chain of supply that seemed evident from the numerous trucks filled with crates. But the best place to start would probably be here at its core. The shipping would cease and the operation be scrapped utterly if its top brass were to come to an unpleasant end.

He surveyed his surroundings. Moving beams of light indicated that there were guards on patrol among the boxes. The droids unloading the shipment looked to be outfitted with a couple of blasters. There were cameras at strategic points of the warehouse and turrets hanging right beside them. At the far end of the room was a staircase that led to a room above it, and through the glass window and the blinds within, shadows could be seen moving.

Stealth seemed like a good idea but with the outcome he had in mind, the guards would know anyway and he would have to deal with them and the other defenses one way or another.

He felt a beam of light turn into the racks to his right. Listening to the steps and feeling the movement of the presence, he waited for the moment that the guard was in line with him and then he struck.

Giving the shelf of crates a mighty kick, he toppled them over and listened to the guard's startled scream. He did the same with the shelf to his left, causing a domino effect in both directions.

With no longer any cover from the crates and having exclaimed his presence with all the noise, all the warehouse's defenses focused on the dark figure. The loading droids dropped their crates and shot a salvo of blaster fire. With a wave of his hand, the red beams were returned to the droids.

The cameras locked onto him and the turrets followed suit. The next turn of events revealed the identity of this cloaked assailant for all in that place to see.

A flash of green, the deflection of blaster fire towards several turrets and the unexplainable implosion of the rest, followed by a scream, sent panic into the atmosphere.

- - -

The breathless guard ran away from the fighting. He had heard the orders from their captain clearly, but he didn't sign up for a death sentence. "_It's a Jedi, men! Kill him!"_ The command echoed in his head but his heart just beat harder and faster.

_No one said anything about a Jedi! They said the job was to kill any civilians who went snooping around in the Exchange's operations._

He heard his fellows' screams. They were probably being decapitated of hand and limb, slowly and professionally. The smoke and dust were heavy in the air and the red and green flashes of blaster fire flared every few moments.

It was just supposed to be a simple guard job. The Exchange was just shipping weapons. Even when the shipping was illegal, the Jedi never seemed to care. Nar Shaddaa was on the Outer Rim. They rarely interfered with things in the Outer Rim. They never seemed to care.

More blaster fire, more screaming.

"_It's a Jedi, men! Kill him!"_ The command echoed in his head but his knees lost their strength and gave way. The mercenary slid onto the floor and crashed into one of the fallen crates.

_It's just weapon shipping! _He screamed in his head as he tried to regain his footing. _What the hell would--?_

The man stared in fearful bewilderment at what rolled out of the broken box.

More blaster fire, more screaming. Then silence, complete and unnerving silence.

The sound of footsteps came from where the fighting had been. The Jedi was coming.

He _did_ sign on for a death sentence. They _all_ did. The weapons on the floor proved it.

Why didn't anyone tell them what they were shipping?

The footsteps grew louder. They were getting closer.

This whole warehouse was a death sentence. It was practically begging for people to die.

The footsteps were now in front of him and the Jedi came through the smoke and dust, his green lightsaber casting an eerie glow about him.

"Please stop! Don't kill me!" The mercenary begged while his hands frantically groped around him for anything he could use as a weapon. "I didn't know! Please don't kill me!"

The Jedi took a step closer.

"Don't kill me!" The man screamed as he picked up one of the lightsabers strewn about him and brandished the handle in front of the cloaked figure. "You think you're the only one with a lightsaber! I can use this! I'll kill you!" With that, the frantic man pressed the on switch and the lightsaber's beam flourished itself. But it was aimed in the wrong direction, and the man had stabbed himself.

The mercenary, recovering from shock, began to scream in pain. The blade had seared effortlessly through his clothing and had impaled him on the floor.

The Jedi took a step back. He shook his head and stretched his hand out toward the man.

The sound of bone cracking and then silence again.

- - -

A surge of emotion ran through the cloaked figure. He could see the guard writhing in pain outside the door. He could hear the screams of the disorientated mercenaries when they saw his lightsaber. He could hear the frantic guard begging him not to kill him. He could see the unstable blade burning through the man's chest, the lightsaber beam burning to a point of losing its cohesion. It was if the lightsaber was screaming in pain. He could hear the breaking of the man's neck.

He could _feel_ the breaking of the man's neck.

Over and over again.

The silence about him was deafening. The screaming from within his chest swelled. The smoke about him choked. His hand gripped his lightsaber tightly.

"Nod!" The dark figure screamed and the window of the room above shattered inwards. Then an explosion came and pushed itself outwards. "Come out, Nod! Let's finish this!"

The office was in flames and shambles. A fire roared. There had probably been some flammable substances within.

A dark figure made itself visible from within the flames. The fire parted and a man slowly floated out the window, levitating himself to the ground below.

"The Jedi have finally taken notice of me again." The man said mockingly, his voice carrying the haughty air of nobility. He was a tall man who was surrounded by the dignified air of age, but who stood strong like a man in his thirties.

"How did a traitor like you, a pathetic worm like you, gain power like that?" The cloaked figure asked, his voice seething through his teeth.

"Worm?" The man cocked an eyebrow and pushed his black cape backwards. It billowed slowly back to rest. "I am the Duke Lorian Nod of Barab, address me fittingly, fool."

A pause came between the two. Aggravation was thick in the air.

"And the question is not how I gained my power?" Lorian Nod's voice came like a knife. "The question is: Has the Council become so foolish as to send a mere boy to face me?" And it cut with an edge just as sharp.

He threw his hand forward in the movement of a slap and the cloaked figure's head jerked like it had been hit. The hood fell, revealing the Jedi to be but a young lad.

His face turned back to look at the Duke of Barab, his green eyes burning with indignation. "You are a _worm_!" He screamed again. The sabers at his feet flew away a couple of inches. The anger could be felt emanating from the Jedi like a strange heat. His breathing was heavy and a tense aura seemed to surround him

The rage subsided, his breathing relaxed and calmness fell about him. "Nothing more than a disgusting little worm."

"I will make you eat those words." Nod seethed and pulled a lightsaber from behind his belt. He clicked it on, and a red, volatile beam formed itself.

"And I will make you pay for your crimes."

The two lunged toward each other and a heated lightsaber battle began.

Lorian Nod was a man in his seventies, the best friend of the respected Count Dooku during their Padawan days, a failure of the Jedi Order who had sought to gain power by stealing a Sith Holocron from the Jedi Archives. He could have been great but he lacked the patience. Now, he stood before the young Jedi a broken old man who had fallen so far.

His lightsaber's erratic beam reflected his inner turmoil. Its red color reflected his inner darkness. As the Force would have it, he would fall.

He struck at the young Jedi with all his rage and ferocity. His anger for being cast out. His fury for being looked down upon. As the battle would have it, it would be his demise.

The green-eyed Jedi slashed a quick and powerful blow that severed the unstable blade for a brief moment. It was all that the Jedi needed to end the battle. Nod's blade reformed itself but it was too late, the clear green lightsaber beam was at his throat.

Silence fell again. The rage had been snuffed out. The dust slowly settled. The humming of the lightsabers were the only sounds in the dead warehouse. The Jedi's calmness blanketed everything. But their hearts beat strongly and their emotions screamed for release.

"So kill me now, boy." Lorian said mockingly. "Or does your flawed Jedi Code prevent you from striking me down?"

"I live the Code, and yes it would prevent me." The boy closed his eyes for a moment. He paused and pressed his lips together. "But the galaxy would be a much better place if there were a lot less Jedi secrets."

The hum of the saber came and the heated atmosphere subsided.

The young Jedi looked down upon the giant burning mass from the top of a nearby building. His mission here was complete. He had broadcasted the security videos on every underlying crime frequency he could connect to. The Exchange and anyone else watching would know that all operations concerning the mass-production of lightsabers would have to be scrapped if they didn't want any more Jedi intervention.

He had sliced into Lorian Nod's computer mainframe and had ordered the immediate cease of shipping. It would slow down operations and give him time to strike at any stubborn branches in the system. He hoped it wouldn't have to come that. The boy clenched his fists and lowered his head. There had been enough killing for this day.

Down below, the frantic fire squads and security forces of Nar Shaddaa scrambled around to put out the blaze and keep curious civilians away. They would be working on this mess for days to come. He had rigged the place with permacrete and thorium charges and had littered thermal detonators everywhere. The explosion had probably been felt throughout the whole moon.

The blaze wouldn't be going out anytime soon. The crystals in the lightsabers were ingots from Barab I. They had caused the distorted beams and the explosion in the office. Now, they served as the burning grave of the self-proclaimed Duke of Barab.

A tear rolled down the young Jedi's cheek. They were supposed to be saviors of the galaxy. Conceding to the good that he had done today, he had fulfilled the role of a Jedi. But all he saw was death and destruction.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

If you are familiar with the name Lorian Nod, it is because he is a canonical character and I have opted to change part of his official story since I am making an Alternate Universe (which I know I have not made quite evident yet. But you'll see.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The ship's corridors had been long and cold. The dull colored walls gave an austere feeling to everything and made the young man uncomfortable. The conference room where they were in now did little to lift the prickly feeling at the back of his neck. It had been there hours before they had arrived and stepping into the Trade Federation ship had done nothing but make it worse.

"I have a bad feeling about this." The brown-haired youth said as he removed his hood and looked to his taller companion who'd done the same.

Striking blue eyes looked back into his. "I don't sense anything." The tall man answered the querying look the boy was giving him as the two walked toward the window at the end of the room.

"It's not about the mission, Master." The brown-haired youth clasped his hands in front of him, lowering his head and inwardly admitting to himself that what he had said wasn't entirely true. Their mission did contribute to his unease, but there was also something else, something seemingly far away, trying to bring itself to his attention. "It's something… elsewhere… elusive…"

The tall man crossed his arms beneath his robes as they made their way to the window. "Don't center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration here and now where it belongs."

The youth opted to defend himself, replying with advice given to him by one of his other elders. "But Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future."

"But not at the expense of the moment." The older man gave his younger companion a reassuring nod. "Be mindful of the living Force, my young Padawan."

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon." But he couldn't seem to bring himself to ignore the feeling.

Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood in front of the window and looked down upon the planet Naboo. It was a beautiful sight to behold and Obi-Wan felt pleased with himself for knowing a lot more about the planet before coming here.

He'd gone to the Jedi Archives to research, knowing that Qui-Gon would've done the same. Except that the old Jedi Master already spent most of his time either there or at the holo-planetarium quenching his curiosity for knowledge. He was proud to be the apprentice of such a Master.

Naboo was a huge world covered with green and blue, rolling plains and vast bodies of water covering its surface. Deep within the planet, a water core could be found amidst the myriads of underwater tunnel networks. What has kept it together and flourishing with life eludes even the greatest researchers of the galaxy. It was a scientific wonder in itself and a work of art in the terms of the universe. Among planets in the galaxy, it was ancient, and its culture was just as old and diverse.

"How do you think the Trade Viceroy will deal with the Chancellor's demands?" Obi-Wan inquired as he stared transfixed at the beauty of the planet's surface.

"These Federation types are cowards." Qui-Gon replied bluntly, annoyed that their view of Naboo was being mottled by several grey Federation starships. They would put an end to this blockade. "The negotiations will be short."

Obi-Wan had heard the response but half his mind was elsewhere. There had been a tingling. It was strange feeling but he could not describe it, or place a reason for it.

Qui-Gon motioned for them to take a seat and they both went back to the head of the table by the entrance.

"Something troubles you?" The elder Jedi looked to his companion.

"Nothing really, it was just a strange feeling." Obi-Wan waited for his Master to sit before taking his own. "I feel that things will not go as planned. They never do, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled. The boy was right; only on a few occasions had their missions gone smoothly. "But there is something else…"

"Yes, Master." His Master had noticed, and he conceded to admit. "It felt like a nagging. Like something wanted me to know that something has happened somewhere, elsewhere."

"Center yourself, young one." The Jedi Master observed the face of his pupil. "Set aside these thoughts so that you may concentrate on the present. The reason for this strange nagging will come to you in time. You will see."

"It is the will of the Force?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and asked skeptically, and Qui-Gon gave once again, his reassuring nod.

The young Jedi smiled and looked around. "Is it their nature to make us wait this long?" As if on cue, the door to the conference room slid open and TC-14, the silver plated protocol droid that had escorted them here, entered, carrying a tray of drinks and food in his hands.

"No." Qui-Gon paused. "I sense an unusual amount of fear for something as trivial as this trade dispute."

Obi-Wan took a drink from TC-14 and had a sip.

- - -

Two Neimoidians stood in front of a holoprojector on the bridge of the Trade Federation's flagship. A dark, robed figure stood before them in the hologram. "This scheme of yours has failed, Lord Sidious." One of the Neimoidians, a pathetic looking grub in blue said to the robed figure. "The blockade is finished. We dare not go against these Jedi."

"You seem more worried about the Jedi than you are of me, Dofine." A sly smile crept onto the dark figure's face. "I am amused. Viceroy!" The smile left and became a disgusted frown as Darth Sidious snapped at the other Neimoidian. "I don't want this stunted slime in my sight again." The Trade Federation Viceroy, Nute Gunray, sent his subordinate a stern look and watched him skitter away. "This turn of events is unfortunate." Darth Sidious face and tone seemed unaffected by what seemed to be dreadful news for the leaders of the Trade Federation. "We must accelerate our plans. Begin landing your troops."

Gunray seemed uncertain with this new order. "My Lord, is that legal?"

"I will make it legal." Darth Sidious stated with conviction and it seemed to regain the Viceroy's confidence in his power.

"And the Jedi?"

"The Chancellor should never have brought them into this." There was trace of annoyance in his tone. "Kill them immediately."

- - -

Outside in the docking bay, a gun turret lowered itself and swung around. The bewildered pilot immediately tried to get his captain's attention. "Captain, look!" He pointed as they both watched as the turret aimed itself at their cockpit.

"Shields up!" The captain had screamed but it was too late. They had been shot and the ship slowly exploded piece by piece, metal shrapnels of its hull flying everywhere.

- - -

A rumble went through the Trade Federation's ship and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan jumped to their feet, opening their lightsabers as they did so. The startled TC-14 dropped his tray. "Sorry," was all the droid could utter. A hissing sound slowly made itself heard as green gas crept into the room from the lower air vents.

"Dioxis." Qui-Gon stated and the two Jedi shut off their sabers as they took a deep breath.

- - -

The squad of droids stopped before the doors of the conference room where the Jedi were.

A hologram of Nute Gunray appeared before them and they awaited their orders. "They must be dead by now." He said haughtily. "Destroy what's left of them." With that the blue figure faded away.

The droid commander looked to his troops and was issuing orders when the conference room doors suddenly opened, the green cloud of dioxis seeping out. Surprised, they readied their weapons as they waited for the smoke to clear.

Something caught the droids' sensors, but it was only the silver TC-14, stumbling out of the room with the drinks tray in its hands.

The droids lowered their guards slightly, but this proved to be a fatal mistake on their part as the two Jedi flew out of the room, igniting their sabers and taking down most of the droid squad before any of them could react.

- - -

Nute Gunray and Rune Haako watched from the bridge as the Jedi cut down the droid commander, their view screen going black as it happened.

The Viceroy looked to Tey How, the ship's master pilot. "What is going on down there?"

"We lost the transmission, sir." The ship controller's reply sounded calm because of his mouthpiece modulator, but the entire bridge was in a state of alarm.

"Have you ever encountered a Jedi Knight before, sir?" Rune inquired anxiously as he and Nute turned to walk toward the bridge doors.

Nute stuttered as he replied. "Well, no, but I don't…" He choked in panic before he could finish his sentence. "Seal off the bridge!"

"That won't be enough, sir." Rune followed up, his voice shaky as his mind raced through all the stories about Jedi he'd heard in his life.

Nute snapped at Tey How, his finger pointing unsteadily as he gave the order. "I want droidekas up here at once!"

Rune wiped his face in resignation with the back of his hand. "We will not survive this."

In a few moments, a green light stabbed through the bridge doors, melting the steel around it.

"They're already here?" Rune jumped in fright and turned around to look at the view screen. Tey How had switched it to the view of the cameras outside, and they all watched fearfully as one Jedi calmly worked on the door while his companion watched his back, effortlessly taking down any droid that came near them or shot at them. "Close the blast doors!" He shouted and another thick layer of metal enclosed the bridge doors, the saber blocked from sight behind it. "That will hold them." Nute said, more to assure himself than his subordinates, as he glanced again at the view screen behind him, watching triumphantly as the older looking Jedi, obviously the Master, pulled out his lightsaber. However, the grin on his face melted away as he watched the Jedi Master stab his sword back into the metal.

He turned to find Rune pointing frantically at the red spot glowing in the center of the doors. "They're still coming through!"

"This is impossible!" The Neimoidian leader shouted in disbelief as a chunk of metal melted off.

"Where are those droidekas?" Rune had evidently lost all his nerve. He turned to the view screen and his heart jumped with hope. Nute followed his gaze and grew just as hopeful as he watched a squad of their droidekas, five from each corridor, roll into view.

The fifteen droids deployed themselves into their battle modes, set up their shields and released a barrage of blaster fire on the two Jedi. They made a valiant effort to deflect the blaster fire but the shields made the droids virtually invincible. Smoke gathered from the continuous shooting, and when it cleared, the crew and the droids found that their enemies were no longer there, not a trace.

Tey How immediately switched through the many hallway cameras as the droidekas adjusted their sensors, and for a while they all caught a glimpse of the Jedi speeding by like blurs.

Rune watched as the Jedi fled the destroyer droids, waving his hand triumphantly at the view screen. "They're no match for droidekas."

But letting a Jedi run was just a dangerous as fighting one head on. "Sir," Tey How caught both his superiors' attention, "They've gone up the ventilation shaft."

- - -

Qui-Gon watched as his apprentice jumped out of the vent and motioned for him to hide himself behind some crates across him. The Jedi Master took in the surprising scene before him. "Battle droids." He whispered to Obi-Wan.

"It's an invasion army." The Padawan watched as droid soldier upon droid soldier filed ranks, folding themselves up to be loaded into their transports.

It was a bold move for the cowardly Neimoidians. "This is an odd play for the Trade Federation." It was evident that they had been planning this for quite some time. "We got to warn the Naboo and contact Chancellor Valorum." He caught his apprentice's attention, noting the calmness in the boy's eyes. He had matured very much from the time he'd accepted him as his Padawan learner. It made him proud to have an apprentice like him. "Stow aboard separate ships and meet down on the planet."

The boy grinned at his teacher, breaking the seriousness of the atmosphere. "You were right about one thing, Master." Qui-Gon gave him a curious look. "The negotiations were short."

But above all the things he valued in Ob-Wan was that the boy always had a knack for making things seem brighter.

- - -

The light from the flames of the burning warehouse could be seen from above the rooftops of Nar Shaddaa. It painted the night sky with an eerie red and orange. Many curious citizens had come out to the streets or poked their heads out of their windows to see what was happening, while others had chosen to go to the scene and see for themselves.

But as everyone's attention was focused at the calamity, a lone, robed figure walked slowly in the direction away from it. The wind fluttered through his feet as he held his coat close to himself. An indescribable chill was running through his body. It wasn't the biting night air of Nar Shaddaa or an unnerving feeling that something wrong was going to happen. It was just cold.

A gloom had seemed to cast itself over him. It always did during times like this. He watched from under his hood as people took brief glances of him before returning to gaze at the destruction he had caused. They would never know. Never know who caused it or why. Never know the brutality of the Jedi. The only people who would were the ones who were meant to know it. The Jedi Order wanted it that way.

He had been wandering aimlessly around the city's streets for hours. It was as if he was searching for something but he didn't know what it was. Maybe it was himself. Maybe it was answers to the many questions he had. All he knew was he felt lost.

It wasn't the first time that this had happened. After every mission like this that he'd gone on since he was fourteen, he found himself drifting right after. There had been times he had shambled around like a drunkard; he had looked nothing like a Jedi, it was disgraceful. But as he grew accustomed to it, he simply found himself walking, searching. None of the Council ever questioned this, they just understood; it was the least they could give him after putting him through hell time and again.

All he needed was time.

Time to himself.

Time to think things through.

- - -

It had been a rough night. Alana breathed in the night air of Nar Shaddaa. She rubbed her wrist and hoped that a bruise wouldn't settle where she had been violently grabbed by one of their customers that evening. Usually their clientele were a bit more civilized. But a couple of thugs had been at the bar that evening. Nothing Sedo and Kovin couldn't handle, though it was always better when there wasn't any trouble at their cantina. She'd been with her Bith boss and their Weequay bouncer for as long as she could remember. It was a good thing too, since she was luckier than the rest of her people.

She breathed in the night air of Nar Shaddaa, it wasn't the sweetest smell in the universe, but it was the smell of home. She'd grown up on Ryloth but had lived most of her life on Nar Shaddaa when she'd been bought as a slave by Sedo.

She had felt the explosion like everybody on the moon but had no interest in going to see the place like the other residents of Nar Shaddaa. Seeing it on the view screen at the bar was enough, it was just a giant mass of flame somewhere in the old industry sector.

It didn't matter much to her; it was far from any residential areas so no civilians could've been hurt. But if the explosion had any major implication, it would be on this evening. With Nar Shaddaa's security forces trying to keep the situation in check, they wouldn't have enough people to monitor the streets. It was bad enough that they couldn't, or didn't do much good when they were around, but with them scattered this evening, some of the seedier elements would get bolder.

She was right.

"Excuse me, ma'am." She felt a hand on her shoulder as she heard the voice come from behind her. Alana jerked around to see who it was and saw a couple of rough looking humans grinning maliciously at her.

There were three of them, and as the one who touched her gave her a once over, the other two flanked her. She had put a coat over herself, but underneath she still wore her gown from the bar. "Nice dress," the man smirked.

"What do you want?" The Twi'lek snapped as she gave them a look of disgust.

"No need to be feisty girl." The first man grinned. "We just want a little fun." One of the other men grabbed her from behind and felt her up.

"Let go of me!" She screamed and tried to elbow her way out of the man's grasp.

The first man grinned and took a step towards her. "Hold her down, boys."

"You don't want to do that." A voice spoke and it seemed to come from all around. The startled men looked around but the second man who had a hold of Alana held her tighter and dug his face into the girl's neck.

"I said," the voice spoke again and a cold feeling fell about the air around them, "you don't want to do that." The second man winced as his right hand, which had been exploring about, twisted itself beyond its capacity. He let go of Alana and dropped to his knees as he grasped his hand which was now in great pain.

A shadowy figure slowly made itself visible in the faint light of the street. It wore a robe and had a hood that covered his face. "Who the hell are you?" asked the third who had lost all interest in their would-be prey.

"You don't need to know who I am." The voice had clearly come from the dark figure. "I don't need to know who you are." The first thug watched in panic as his companion repeated the words as if he were in a trance.

"You will go home and re-think your life." The voice was calm yet commanding. "I will go home and re-think my life." The man rubbed his head and lumbered away.

The dark figure turned to face the first man who stood transfixed at what was happening. "You will do the same." After repeating the order, he went on his way as if nothing had happened.

Alana, having regained her composure, took a few steps back from the ruffian who had assaulted her. He was still on his knees grasping his hand and trying to scream with no success. The pain had obviously detached him from his surroundings. She looked again at the dark robed figure who now made his way towards the kneeling man, his cloak brushed against hers and she felt a chill follow him.

He waved his hand in front of him and the man's other hand twist itself. The man looked in even more pain. He waved his hand again and the thug seemed to waver, as if he were feeling a great dizziness, as if a bottle had been broken on his head.

He pulled the man by his hair and made him face him, made him stare into his eyes. "Your fate will be the same as your friends. But I will leave you a little gift." The robed figure said flatly as he waved his hand and returned the man's hands back to normal. The thug's eyes were glazed, but fear was apparent in them. "Every time you think of doing harm to another, you will remember my eyes." The thug tried to look away but his gaze was painfully jerked back by the hand still caught in his hair. "And if you harm anyone…" there was a pause, "you will see more than that."

The dark figure threw the man to the ground and stared down at him, and the thug was left trembling in a huddled heap on the street. He turned towards Alana, and paused for a moment, the Twi'lek looking back at him, examining his face under his hood. The man then waved his hand and spoke. "You will remember—"

"Nothing?" Alana queried, tilting her head to get a better look at her rescuer, "I'm sorry, but I don't think that will work on me." She looked into his eyes and gave him a wry smile. "I know your eyes."

A moment passed where nothing was said, then the robed figure turned around to leave. But before he could take a step away, a pair of arms embraced him from behind and held him back. Alana rested her face on the man's back. "Thank you." She whispered softly.

Everything had seemed so cold awhile ago, but she felt none of the coldness from the man she held now. He had a warmth about him; a warmth that seemed weak and dying. But it comforted her, and something within her wanted to keep it alive.

There was a comforting silence around them as the noise of Nar Shaddaa seemed to go quiet; the moon and everything on it seeming so far away.

"Let me go." The voice spoke.

"You don't want me to." Alana snuggled her face into the neck of his hood and held him tighter. "You're shaking, is something wrong?" She asked as she felt him tremble and his knees give way. Moving to his front, she knelt down and cupped his cheek. He was shivering and his eyes seemed detached from everything.

"Leave me alone." The voice whispered as he looked into her eyes. "Leave me alone, please."

Alana felt like she'd lose herself in his eyes. They were so deep and so many things seemed to be hidden within them. Never had she seen anything so mesmerizing, so captivating. They seemed so wizened, filled with thoughts she couldn't fathom, with emotions she couldn't describe. Yet something seemed wrong. It was as if they weren't ready, weren't ready for the horrors of life. They seemed so innocent, so young. She couldn't resist the urge any longer. Her longing to see his face, coupled with her urge to help this man who suddenly seemed so weak and tiny, made her hand push back the hood he wore.

The youth had looked away from her as she had removed his hood but he gave in when she slowly led his gaze back to hers with her caring fingers. Not a tear had trickled from his eyes but she felt there were a thousand waters behind his calm facade.

A pang of grief, and of love, overcame her. She knew now what was wrong, and it was painful to behold. It was a mere boy kneeling before her, a lad who looked as if he wasn't a day older than sixteen.

How could one so young possess eyes that seemed to have fought a war?

Alana cupped his face in both her hands and kissed the boy on his forehead. She didn't know what else to do. The boy just seemed to need someone right now, anyone. She cradled his head in her arms and as she did so she felt him tremble and his tears wet her leg.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I saw it fit to change a few things in the canon since I thought they either didn't make sense or were just plain disappointing.

Some of the added text was taken from the screenplay of Episode1 I'm using as a supplement.

This note also applies for all following chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The odd, frog-like humanoid squatted over a murky pool in the swamp. Its yellow eyes which protruded from its head surveyed the muddy water. When it saw what it had been looking for, it opened its maw and a pink long tongue snapped out catching a small clamshell. Laying it flat in its jaw, the orange hued creature snapped its mouth shut and its teeth jarred the clamshell to open itself. In that brief moment, the creature's tongue lashed out again and caught the mollusk within, finishing the meal in one quick gulp.

No sooner had the creature finished its meal when it began to hear a loud rumbling in the distance and feel the trembling of the earth beneath it. A moment later, animals started bursting out of the dense undergrowth followed by gigantic, brown, metal juggernauts.

The creature began to panic, frantically waving its head and limbs about. The giant machines bored down on him like giant locomotives when it suddenly saw a human clad in brown robes running toward him. In desperation, the creature grabbed onto the human.

The man tried to order the creature off but it just held onto him tighter. In that brief moment that one of the metallic juggernauts was about to behead the both of them, the man dropped and he and the creature fell flat into the mud, the machines racing over their heads.

The man and the orange creature pulled themselves up and watched as the machines disappeared into the undergrowth and listened to their sounds fade away with them.

"Oh, mooie-mooie! I love you!" The creature began to exclaim as it chased after its rescuer who had began to walk away.

"Are you brainless? You almost got us killed." The man snapped flatly without looking at the creature.

"I spake." It replied with pride.

"The ability to speak does not make you intelligent. Now get out of here." He replied calmly and dismissed the strange creature with a stern look.

"No, no!" It began again pleadingly. "Me'sa stay. Me'sa called Jar Jar Binks. Me'sa your humble servant."

"That won't be necessary." He said beginning to get annoyed.

"Oh but it tis!" It exclaimed again. "Tis demanded by da gods it tis." It was cut off from speaking anymore when another man clad in brown robes ran out of the undergrowth, followed closely by two Trade Federation droids flying on hovering gun platforms. "Oh no!"

"Stay down." The man ordered and the creature dropped to the ground covering its head with its hands, while he pulled out a silver handle which shot out a steady, green beam of light. He deflected the blaster fire from the droid platforms back at their shooters with his laser sword and watched as they blew up in small explosions.

The other man stood behind the first one and breathed heavily to catch his breath.

"You saved my again." Jar Jar propped himself to his feet and looked at Qui-Gon.

"What's this?" Obi-Wan inquired with a curious look at Jar Jar.

"A local." Jar Jar gave Obi-Wan a sheepish smile. "Let's go before more droids show up." The Jedi Master quickly dismissed the matter.

Surprised and his mouth, which ran faster than he did, not to be denied, the orange creature followed up with yet another question. "More? More did you spake?"

The two Jedi did not take notice of him as they spoke with each other while walking down the path the droid transports' had made. "Sorry, Master, my saber shorted itself." The younger Jedi apologized as he took out his saber handle and showed it to Qui-Gon.

"You forgot to turn your power off again, didn't you?" He queried as he turned the saber around and watched swamp water drip out of it. Obi-Wan nodded sheepishly. "The damage doesn't seem to be severe. I don't think it will take to long for it to normalize but this is a lesson I hope you've learned, my young Padawan."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan took his saber back and returned it to his belt as he and his master picked up the pace.

"Ex-squeeze me." Jar Jar's voice spouted again as the orange Gungan raced after them. "But da mostest safest place would be Gunga City. Tis where I grew up. Tis a hidden city."

Qui-Gon stopped and turned to face Jar Jar. Obi-Wan followed suit. "A city?" The Jedi Master queried. Jar Jar nodded. "Can you take us there?"

The Gungan found himself fumbling with his words. "Uhh… on second thought… no, not really. No, no."

"No," Qui-Gon eyed the orange creature.

Jar Jar's expression became squeamish. "Dis embarrassing." He shuffled his legs and looked down at his toes. "My afraid my've been banished. My forgotten." The creature said pleadingly. "Da Bosses would do terrible things to me, terrible things to me if me goin back there."

The two Jedi eyed him carefully as the sound of the Trade Federation's forces fumbling in the forest echoed in the distance. Qui-Gon took a step toward Jar Jar and looked him in the eyes. "You hear that?"

Jar Jar had heard the transports as well and nodded with an added "yeah."

"That is the sound of a thousand terrible things heading this way." The Jedi Master watched as Jar Jar took a big gulp of air.

Obi-Wan, seeing what his Master planned to do, followed Qui-Gon's lead. "If they find us they will crush us, grind us into little pieces and blast us into oblivion."

Jar Jar obviously appeared shaken. "You'sa point is well seen. Dis way, hurry." Without a pause, he spun around, nearly slapping Obi-Wan with his long ears, and ran off into the forest. The Jedi followed behind him.

- - -

The room was lit dimly by a faint blue glow. The only other source of illumination was the open window from wherein the lights of Nar Shaddaa streamed in. The scenery was just like that from the window at the bar but only from a much, much higher view. The speeders seemed like small flitting lights stopping and going now and then.

Alana switched a light on and bright white seemed to glare out from a small bulb as the blue glow dimmed out. Part of the room slowly filled with light but most of it still lay in shadow. She set down her bags on the counter table and opened up her cooler. "You want something to drink?" She asked, but no response came. She took out a pitcher of water and shut the cooler door. From one of her cupboards, she got two glasses and made her way around the counter table.

She stopped short as her table, in the center of the room, came to view. The boy just sat there, his hood down, staring out at the window. "The view's nice, isn't it? I was lucky to get this apartment when I did; prices started hiking after I'd bought it." It was yet another vain attempt at starting a conversation. She set the glasses down and poured water into them, placing the pitcher down carefully beside them. Glass in hand, she nudged her chair slowly toward that of the boy's and offered him the drink. There was still no response. "I'm sorry that I only have water." She smiled sheepishly. "I'd offer you something hard but I have something against alcohol." Only silence, and the glazed look in the boy's eyes, answered her. Defeated, she put the glass down in front of him and resigned to see what he was looking at.

Nar Shaddaa seemed just as it usually was, alive and awake at all hours. But something was amiss, something that wasn't normally there. It was faint, but a part of the horizon seemed to glow orange, like fire. It was coming from the old industrial sector, so she guessed that it must've been that burning warehouse she'd seen on the teleprojector at the cantina. It was quite strange that the fire was still ablaze, she thought. Nar Shaddaa's security forces weren't the best, but they were trained to handle fires.

"But you work at a bar?" A voice asked and Alana was jerked abruptly back to reality.

"Pardon me?" Taken by surprise and grasping for her composure, she looked at him and leaned toward him a bit. Again there was silence and she inwardly cursed her inattentiveness. She'd been trying to get him to acknowledge her and then she went and phased out. She sighed and shook her head at her own predicament.

"You said you had something against hard drinks, but you work at a bar." The boy followed up but his glazed look remained and he stared still out the window.

A wave of relief flushed over Alana and she smiled slightly. It seemed the stars were kind to her tonight. "Long story, but basically it's something to do with a father and a pitcher of Juma Juice spiked with Ryll." The boy made no response that he'd heard her but the Twi'lek went on anyway, in vain hope that he was. "But either way, there aren't that many job opportunities for a Twi'lek like me here on this backwash moon." She ended it on an upper note but it seemed to take no effect on the detached disposition of her guest. She forced a bit of her smile to remain on the corner of her lip, but it slowly faded away as the unnerving quiet settled in once again.

Alana took her glass of water and took a sip. The cold feeling soothed and relaxed her a bit. The events of that evening had taken her unprepared and she only noticed now that it had left her throat a bit dry. She found herself staring again at the fire in the distance. It was relayed to the public that the warehouse seemed to have been storing military-grade equipment and that apparently a malfunction of security equipment inside had caused them to explode. She didn't believe a thing on the news. It had probably been yet another pet project of one of the moon's crime syndicates. She wondered what really caused the explosion.

"What do you think caused that explosion?" The boy asked again, breaking the silence.

"The news said that—"

"We all know how Nar Shaddaa works." He cut her off flatly. "What do you think _really_ happened?"

Alana paused and studied the youth's face. There was more behind him than what the eye could see. The persuasion of the thugs that had attacked her, his calm yet commanding whispers, she wasn't one to jump to conclusions but from the stories she had heard, he could be one of _them_. Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts and shared them with her guest. "I think one of the crime syndicates was working on something big. Large scale enough to attract the attention of some of their competitors… or their enemies."

The quiet was there again, but it felt more like the one that had been between her and him back at the cantina earlier that evening. She could tell that part of his attention was focused on her, but he seemed transfixed by the burning mass in the distance. "You're suggesting the Republic?"

"The Republic would have done something about Nar Shaddaa a long time ago if they could have." She rolled her eyes and took another sip from her glass. "But the Hutts have been powerful and resourceful enough to deter the Republic from taking action against their territories here in Hutt Space. I'm guessing that it was a dispute between rival crime outfits." The young Twi'lek, seeking to uncover her guest's identity, entertained a thought which to her was amusing. "Either that or the—"

"Isn't it beautiful?" He cut her off again. Alana felt as if he had meant to do it, but afraid of losing the attention he was giving her, she did not pursue it.

Returning to his query, she surmised that he had meant the orange glow in the horizon. "I guess you could say that." She paused and took in the strange aura the view seemed to emanate. "It paints," she searched for the right words but couldn't find them, "an unfamiliar glow in Nar Shaddaa's sky."

"No." His voice softened to a whisper as spoke his next words. "I meant the thought that whatever evil that would have come from there is now dead. That every individual that had sought to do harm to others is now burning in that inferno. That a massacre has undoubtedly saved the lives of so many."

Alana stared at the boy, an appalled expression painted on her face. "That's horrible. That's a horrible thing to say. Only a monster would relish in such carnage."

"So you think I'm a monster?" The boy turned and stared deep into her eyes. The glazed look was gone and the two green orbs became frightening to look upon. She felt a chill run through her bones, pain sear itself into her skin. Her head felt numb and she started feeling dizzy. But he wasn't doing it. She just knew that he wasn't. It was _his_ pain she felt.

Her eyes did not close themselves but she felt her sight go black. Taking a few deep breaths, she felt herself calm down, and when she opened her thoughts again, the pain was gone. Gazing into his eyes, she saw pieces of what was within him, and sadness fell on her again at the thought that this child had gone through so much that he probably shouldn't have. There was no anger in her voice, only concern. "Did you cause that fire?" The boys stare wavered, the unyielding look in his eyes faltered. His head nodded his affirmation. "You didn't want to do it, did you?" He shook his head and went back to staring out the window. "But you still did. Why?"

"Because I wanted to save lives." There was a slight tinge of emotion, distinct from his regular flat tone. She said nothing, she felt that he wanted to say so much more, but for some reason he stopped. Yet there was a tension in the air, like a string about to snap, like a dam about to burst, like that deep breath before the plunge. Except it just stayed there, hanging in the air, a wound in the tranquility of that evening. It screamed and yet it made no sound.

Alana stretched her hand out to place on his shoulder but right before she could, a knock came from the door. She retracted it slowly and reluctantly, giving him one last look before getting up to get the door.

The knocking came again, heavy and demanding; it seemed like its owner was in quite an impatient mood. Alana wondered who it could be at this late hour. She got her answer when she let her door slide open.

It was the Quarren from the bar, and he had brought with him a couple of large Gamorreans. Beside the luxuriously dressed squid, the porcine humanoids looked all the more like a pack of thug bodyguards. They each carried in their hands a blaster rifle and at their sides hung a chosen barbaric looking melee weapon. There were four of them altogether, the Quarren and his three Gamorrean grunts.

"Good evening Miss Mav." The Quarren addressed Alana in his best common, which didn't sound quite so good. It was slow, erroneous in pronunciation and accented in all the wrong places. The Twi'lek gave each of the boar men a weary glance before returning her attention to the leader.

"Uhmm, yes?" Alana felt unsure of the group before her. Living on the Outer Rim teaches one how to sense when danger is coming. "May I help you?"

"Actually, you can." The Quarren's four tentacles seemed to wiggle themselves into a grin. "I've been hired by some high-paying clients to employ you into their service."

Alana's face turned into a scowl. "How many times do I have to tell you people? I'm not interested in your clients. I'm already employed and I'm happy where I am now."

"I'm actually here to talk to you about that little problem." There was something in the way he said it that unnerved Alana.

"What problem?"

"You seem to currently be… unemployed, my dear." The Quarren chuckled a bit. "My clients have dealt with your previous owner."

Alana felt her knees weaken and a pain shoot through her chest. It hadn't been the first time she had been approached like this. They had even tried to threaten Sedo, but the Bith never gave in. "You're lying."

"Have it your way, young lady. But you can check the rubble of your cantina tomorrow after your first performance tonight for your new masters." The Quarren clapped his hands and his Gamorreans, who had been distracted by the flies buzzing around them, came to attention and lumbered toward Alana.

The first Gamorrean to enter the room had to squeeze himself into the door, cracking the door frame as he force his mass inwards. Alana backed away in panic and stumbled as the pig man stretched out his muscled hand to grab her. Lying on the floor with the huge Gamorrean bearing down on her, she was just as astonished as her assailants at what happened next.

The boar man's arm fell to the floor and his horrified squeals filled the room. He was silenced shortly after by a soft hum and a flash of green.

"The lady apparently isn't interested." A shadowy figure made itself visible in the sparse light beaming through the open door. "Now back away and no one has to get hurt." A green aura emanated from the lightsaber in his hand and it cast an eerie glow about him.

The Quarren was obviously shaken, as he started cursing and barking out orders in his native tongue. He pulled out a blaster as his bodyguards followed suit, but before any of them could even lay their fingers on the triggers of their weapons, they had all fallen to the floor, lifeless. The blade of the lightsaber receded and the cloaked figure walked back into the room where Alana lay on the floor in shock.

She looked up and away from the bodies before her to see the boy's outstretched hand. Taking it, he helped her up to her feet and she stood face to face with him, looking once again at his eyes. There was no malice in them, no happiness at what he had done, but there was a firm sense of duty, and a strong sense of justice.

- - -

"How much farther?" Qui-Gon asked their guide as they burst through the undergrowth and stood before a wide, murky lake. It was dusk now, the sun of Naboo setting over the horizon.

Jar Jar turned to face the Jedi. "We'sa goin underwater, okeyday? My warning you, Gungans no liken outsiders. Don't 'xpect a warm welcome."

"Don't worry," Obi-Wan laughed sarcastically, "This hasn't been our day for warm welcomes." Right as he finished his sentence, Jar Jar flipped backwards and did a double somersault with a twist, wailing into the air as he corkscrewed himself and dived into the water. The two Jedi pulled out silver objects from their belts and waded into the lake. They were A99 Aquata Breathers and would provide them with air underwater. They had expected that they would need them and they proved themselves right.

Jar Jar's orange head popped out of the water and looked to the Jedi. "You'sa follow me now, okeyday?" With that, he submerged again and the Jedi's, putting their breathers into their mouths, dove and followed him.

As they swam behind Jar Jar, Obi-Wan was astonished at how smoothly the Gungan glided through the space. He didn't seem as scraggly as he had above, on the ground; there was actually a sort of elegance to the creature as he moved in this element. He watched as fish scattered at the sight of them coming, and wondered at the beauty of the corals and the other forms of life. They swam deeper and deeper, and as the light above them faded, another light seemed to glow from below.

They passed over a crag of rocks and what the Padawan saw amazed him more than anything he'd seen so far on this planet.

Hundreds of giant bubbles were glowing in the distance, and even from afar, he could see that there was movement within them. Life underwater within transparent living spaces.

The sight and thought was breathtaking.

The three slowly swam toward what looked like a gate into one of the bubbles and stood themselves upright on the platform before it, and Jar Jar slowly walked through the bubble membrane which seemed to magically close behind him. The Jedi followed, and found themselves looking about, appreciating the majesty of the sight. But the atmosphere wasn't quite as friendly as the air they were now breathing.

Gungans nearby that had spotted the outsiders scrambled away while Jar Jar shook himself dry, the drenched Jedi behind him taking off their Breathers, setting them back onto their belts. "So good bein home!" He exclaimed and breathed in the city air as several Gungans whispered to each other.

"Hey yousa! Stoppa there!" Came the holler of a tough looking Gungan riding on a strange two-legged steed.

The Kaadu stopped right before Jar Jar and the rider gave the orange Gungan a stern look. He clenched tightly the shaft of the electro-pole he carried.

"Heyo-dalee, Cap'n Tarpals. Me'sa back." Jar Jar gave a hopeful smile while stretching his arms sideward with open palms.

"No again, Jar Jar." Tarpals said with a dismayed tone in his voice. His next words were spoken with slight resentment, increasing in tone. "You'sa goin to da Bosses. You'sa in big doodoo this time."

Another guard riding on a Kaadu steed flanked Jar Jar and his companions, giving the orange Gungan a poke with his electro-pole. Jar Jar jumped at the slight shock and took a step backward. "How rude." He stated flatly as he looked up at both guards.

- - -

The two Jedi stood before the Gungan council, who sat on a platform a few feet higher than the ground. The platform stood in a semi-circle at the end of the Board Room bubble, where five officials sat comfortably in their chairs. The one in the center was a lot larger and wider than his peers, obviously the head of the council.

He was the leader of the Gungans: Big Boss Nass.

The large Gungan made a few clicking sounds from the sound of his mouth before speaking. "You'sa cannot be's here. Dis army of machineeks up there is new weesaw."

Qui-Gon placed his hands on his side and looked seriously into the Gungan ruler's eyes. "A droid army is about to attack the Naboo." He said firmly. "We must warn them."

"We'sa no like the Naboo." Nass paused and made another few clicking sounds before going on. "Da Naboo tink they so smarty. They tink their brains so big." He emphasized his point with a wave of his hand.

Obi-Wan, who had been standing a step behind his Master, walked forward and faced the large Gungan, attempting a moment of reason. "Once those droids take control of the surface, they will take control of you."

"Me'sa no tink so. They not know of ussen." The Gungan tapped his chest with a clenched fist.

Seeing that their plea was getting nowhere, Qui-Gon waved his hand discreetly in front of him and gave a suggestion to Boss Nass. "Then speed us on our way."

"We'sa gonna speed yous away."

Qui-Gon nodded and waved his hand again. "We could use a transport."

"We'sa give yousa una bongo." This turn of events elicited surprised looks from Jar Jar and the guards who stood behind him. "Da speediest way to da Naboo is goin through…" Nass paused and spared a glance to the rep on his right before looking back at the Jedi with a grave expression. "…da planet core." The mischievous smile on his face faded and turned into a frown. "Now go." He pointed to the exit.

"Thank you for you help. We leave in peace." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed and turned to leave.

"Master, what's a bongo?" Obi-Wan inquired as he looked to Qui-Gon.

"A transport, I hope." As the two Jedi passed Jar Jar, he moved toward them but was held back by one of the guards.

"They'sa settin you'sa up. Goin through the planet core, bad bombin." The captive Gungan warned them and a forlorn look painted his face. "Any help here would be hot." He clinked his chains as he grinned sheepishly.

Qui-Gon gave him a thoughtful look, and Obi-Wan sensed it. "Master. We are short on time."

"We'll need a navigator to get us through the planet's core. This Gungan may be of help." He reasoned and walked his way back to Boss Nass. "What is to become of Jar Jar Binks here?"

"Binks's broken the nocomebackie law. Hissen to be pune-ished." Jar Jar frowned and bowed his head as he heard this.

"He has been a great help to us. I hope the punishment will not be too severe."

"Pounded unto death." Nass said flatly and Jar Jar grimaced. Obi-Wan's face grew concerned and he glanced at the captive Gungan. "I saved his life. He owes me what you'd call a lifedebt."

Boss Nass face wrinkled. "Binks? You'sa have the lifeplay with thissen hissen?" Jar nodded in reply with an "uh-huh".

Qui-Gon's hand waved itself yet again. "Your gods demand that his life belongs to me now."

The Gungan leader paused for a moment. Then he shook his head vigorously, his cheeks wiggling and drops of spit coming out. "Be gone with him." Nass shouted angrily and waved his hand as if to shoo them all away.

The guards unlocked Jar Jar's cuffs and the now free Gungan rubbed his wrists as he watched the two Jedi leave out the door. "Count me'sa outta this. Better dead here, then dead in the core…" He paused and thought for a moment. "Ye gods, whatta me'sa sayin?" He shouted exasperated and waved his arms above his head, then quickly followed the Jedi.

- - -

_Do you believe them?_ He had asked her. She said that she didn't, but it seemed that her faith was misplaced. They stood before what had been earlier that evening, a classy and welcoming bar, now nothing more than a heap of charred wood and metal, where the glow of left-over embers cast an eerie light.

Black smoke still floated in wisps above the rubble, and it had probably been a bright blaze but a few hours ago. There was no sign that anyone had put it out, it seemed that it had just burned itself dead.

In the distance, the sky still glowed orange, and the fire was still strong and the security forces of Nar Shaddaa still concentrated on that night's biggest disaster. The one caused by her companion.

Alana looked to the Jedi who hadn't bothered to replace his hood: dark auburn hair, skin like alabaster, green eyes that reflected light hauntingly—there was nothing about his looks that convinced her that he had caused the explosion that had shook all of Nar Shaddaa.

But he did.

She could see it in his movements, hear it in his voice. She could feel it in his stares, could smell it in the air around him.

She could taste it in his very presence.

Yet it was comforting, and she was unafraid. He had saved her and she had glimpsed it in his eyes: he was a good man. The deeds he did, he did for the sake of others.

She really couldn't understand what was wrong. There was nothing evil about him, she was sure of it, but he didn't seem to think so. He did nothing that, in her opinion, should make him abhor himself so much—yet he did.

He hated himself. And it ate at him like the darkness does a child.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as the wind picked up around them, a strand of his dark locks falling carelessly across his eyes. Watching this, Alana wiped the tear that had trickled down her cheek. "Don't be." She murmured, barely a whisper. "It wasn't your fault."

The boy looked at her and there was pain in his eyes, the kind that reminded her of heat-storms on Ryloth. Or of drinks mixed badly and left to go warm. "Wasn't it?" He bit back. "Isn't it my fault that everyone that should be watching the streets is over there, cleaning up _my mess_?" He nudged his head toward the orange glow in the distance. "Isn't it my fault that there is no protection on the streets for people like you," he paused and looked at the ruin before them, "and them."

He was about to continue when she placed her fingers on his lips, quieting him. "You saved many lives today," she said earnestly, looking into his eyes, "I don't know what you did, but you saved many lives today." She reaffirmed the statement. "I can see it in your eyes: you think what you've done is wrong, and maybe it is, but _I_ don't think so." She shook her head and looked away for a moment.

"You saved my life," she breathed, "_twice_." She exhaled and looked back to him. "You tried to make me forget the first time, but I was stubborn." She looked back at his face and her stare could have overcome him. "You had the power to just kill me like all those others, but you didn't." She allowed a shadow of a smile. "You used it to save me, and I know, because I can feel it all around you, that you would have done everything you could to save my friends and all the other good people here on Nar Shaddaa."

She took her fingers from his lips and cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. "For that, I thank you." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, "but you're only human." She smiled again, a touch of something poignant in her eyes. "And there is only so much you can do."

The wind blew by again, stronger this time and ruffled their coats. "If I can do good," he whispered, his face tilted slightly to the side, "then I will." Fragments of ash fluttered limply in the wind. "One simple action can change the fate of the universe," he seemed faraway then, too far, "and my actions will make echoes," each word spoken seemed like a weight that only dragged him down, "echoes that will not stop until they are overcome by others."

Alana's voice rose as her emotions surged. "Your echoes will all but die if you let your darkness overcome you." A tear formed at the edge of her eye. "Don't let it," she took him by the shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. But she was tired. "Do _not _let it take you away from _all_ that you believe you still must do."

"A Jedi's life is sacrifice." He said flatly, his eyes glazed over with extreme grief.

"I don't want to lose you." She pleaded with him, her fingers gripping tighter though her shoulders sagged and she bowed her head, shuddering.

"I am nothing to you." He looked on ahead, blank, hollow, and yet, unconsciously, he hoped otherwise.

"You are everything to me." Alana leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice choked up but raspy and soft. She felt herself tremble, the tremor running over and under her skin before she could stop it.

Quietly, she began to cry. "You are everything to me now." Centering herself enough to let go of him, she looked back to his face. "My life isn't as magnificent as the universe." That face: so detached, so unreachable. Yet so painfully compelling.

"It is simple and small." She continued, her fingers slack on his shoulders. "The best years of my life I spent under the love and care of two people who now lie dead under that heap we called our home." The moisture stung her eyes and she sniffled, as if lacking air. "I have nothing now."

Silence crept over them, and the half-mute sounds of the city went on in the night. "Nothing except you." Her voice wavered as her tears flowed freely, and she whispered, almost afraid. "I love you, though you have shown no love for me, I love you." Her fingers found their strength and grasped him firmly once more. "Because there is _good_," she stressed, "_in you_." She searched his gaze. "I can _see _it." And squeezed his shoulders again. "I can _feel _it."

He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to believe her. And her words, right now, were precious, in a strange, strange way. "There is good in you." Alana told him. "There is _love _in you."

He stepped back, a small move, but a significant one. "I cannot accept your love." He turned his eyes away.

"I do not ask you to." There was conviction in her voice. "I give it freely." She cupped his cheek and let him see her again. "All I ask is that you take me with you."

He shied away from her touch. "I cannot do that."

"Then you have killed me." Her words were as strong as her feelings, "you have _doomed _me to a life of _slavery _and _defilement_." Her voice pitched low, like a child, all alone. "I will live the rest of my days through tortures of the flesh, since that is all I am worth to anyone." Again, she tried to reach him. He was, in some way, in the only way, her one hope.

"You are the only other person other than my now dead family that has shown me compassion, even in the slightest," she sighed, "you are the only other person who knows that I am more than a source of physical pleasure." Her last words were said with bitterness that cut like a knife: "I pray that my grief over you takes me swiftly so that I may be spared of what would be a life without meaning, without purpose." With that, Alana crossed her arms and looked away.

To the undiscerning eye, the boy's calm demeanor remained as it was, but inside, his resolve had been shaken. He stretched out his hands and held Alana by her arms, and his mouth tried to speak but it didn't have the words.

The long silence stayed like the scent of burnt metal, until he found what he thought was right to say: "I can't protect you."

"Liar." She looked back at him and smiled smugly, "you can protect me—but you can't protect yourself." She reached out and brushed the strand of hair that had fallen on his face. "Cause the battle you fight cannot be won with the arms you bear." Her hand slid to his throat, the fingers lax there, "It's within you, but I feel that it is a much greater battle than what I or any others could ever imagine." She paused. Her tears had stopped, her voice was weak, but it no longer wavered like before. "I want to protect you." She told him in a voice that was like a confession. "I want to save you from what I've seen in the depths of your eyes," she looked to those same eyes and for a moment, her eyes seemed to smile, if sadly. "From the darkness I see in your very being."

His tone was as lifeless as ever, but the words gave her hope. "I am not sure you can."

Her eyes twinkled in the evening light. "But I will try if you let me," she felt her companion run his thoughts through his head.

"Are you sure?" The boy asked in his whisper. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She gestured with a brief, half-hearted sweep of the hand. "Look around you? Do I have anything else?" She let out a heavy sigh, "If you leave, I will have _nothing_," she breathed in and exhaled, her voice soft again. "And it will be hard to start anew, if not impossible."

The boy raised his arm and placed his coat over her shoulder. There was only silence and a quiet understanding, and they walked away from the ruined cantina and the orange glow in the midnight sky, their footsteps but shadows on the dusty floor.


End file.
